Being Death has Rewards
by Spaugs
Summary: Erik Eric commits suicide only to find out that he has been chosen to become a Reaper, lucky for him beng a Reaper has rewards, AKA a promise of true love. ErikOC Rating WILL go up
1. The End orBeginning?

He had lost her. His Angel had abandoned him for the love a fop. Tears were no longer enough to relieve the pain he felt. How could he go on living without her? He felt the cool smooth length pushing past his skin before he even made the decision to cut the skin. The Persian blade ran the length of forearm, cutting through the vein filled with pain and anger. His shining ruby blood joined the exotic jewels that decorated the handle of the knife. He felt wonderful, since his Christine had left he hadn't felt this good, he felt light and airy, as if at any moment he'd begin floating through the air carried away by the dank wind from the hotel. His torso slid from the wall to the ground. He watched in amazement as his ruby blood trickled from the long cut on his right arm down his long and graceful pianist's fingers only to drop to the ground. The sound of the blood dripping on the ground began to form the beat of what Erik thought would be his last musical creation.

His hand looked so pale; the blood that should have been going through his fingers was now flowing over them. The scene he saw before him was so beautiful, he was glad this was the last thing he'd ever see before he died. It was harder to breathe now, he noted, so much harder. His eyes began to drift shut, everything turning grey. Yes, everything was right now, he was dying and he was unloved, his entire life seemed summed up in the way he was dying, but that was alright, it seemed only right. He managed a slight smile, everything would be fine now, yes, it would be over soon and he'd never have to live with being mocked by others again. Everything was going to be ok.

He felt the last beats of his heart. Three…not long now….two…he took his last breath…one.

Darkness.

It was all over now.

He felt an icy hand clamp down on his arm. He saw the bright light of a window. He felt that he was suddenly being pulled back into the world of the living. NO! His mind cried out in agony, NO! This wasn't right; it was supposed to be over now! He tried to struggle out of his captor's hand, but it was too strong and he was too weak. He tried to tell the hand to leave him alone, to let him go to the other side, it was his time! Everything was perfect! He was already dead! Despite his mind's anguish he was set on his feet. He slowly felt his energy return to him, not his blood, but his energy. Slowly his eyes opened fully. Two icy hands cupped his face and held his head up. When his vibrant green eyes focused he looked to see who his captor was.

"You?" Erik's voice croaked out while his eyes stared unbelievingly towards Death. He wore a black, sack suit and a bowler hat along with a porcelain mask that was made to look like a skull.

Death reached his hand out and gripped Erik's dead hand in a friendly hand shake. "Hello Erik!" Death said warmly, Erik just looked at the man. "Oh my! Where are my manners?" The man took the mask off to reveal a face like Erik's, one side scarred and ravaged the other normal and handsome. "The name's Henry, nice to meet ya'." He wrapped an arm around Erik's stunned shoulders. He pulled Erik with him as began to walk towards the door.

"Why won't you let me die?" Erik's anguished voice whimpered as Henry opened the hotel room door.

Henry let out a laugh, "Erik, you are dead!" He turned them around, "Look over there," he pointed towards where Erik had committed suicide, and to Erik's surprise he was laying there on his side, blood stinging the floor as well has his expensive suit. "Well, I suppose you're not quite dead…" Henry said looking Erik up and down. Erik gave him a perplexed look. Henry sighed, "I'll explain over breakfast." He began to lead Erik out the door again only pausing to ask, "Do you like coffee?"

That was the beginning of a new life for Erik. He was dead. He was alive. He was very confused.

**This is an odd story, but I really like how it's coming along, I have the second chapter done, the third is getting tweaked right now. Please RandR I appreciate it. It won't remain too depressing for too long I promise.**


	2. To Be Death

Erik and Henry sat at a café, Henry drank cup after cup of coffee while Erik tried to lift his cup of tea. He was still extremely weak. Henry said that's what happens after you die; he also said it would get better. Laughingly he told Erik about how after he had died he couldn't eat for a weak, he just kept puking everything back up. "That's what you get when you die from poison!" He said laughing so hard Erik feared he'd fall right out of his seat. To Henry, death seemed some great joke; he said that came from living over 150 years.

When Erik gave up trying to lift the tea to his mouth he sat back against the wicker chair. "What do you want with me?" he finally asked Henry, his voice almost back to normal, but it lacked the power it usually held.

Henry sobered, "Erik, you certainly know how to kill the mood." He giggled a little, "No pun intended."

"What, exactly, do you mean?" Erik was getting frustrated now.

"Well, Erik, it's a little complicated." Henry sighed and rubbed his green eyes in an agitated manner. When he looked at Erik again, Erik had managed to get into a position that Henry knew meant he was going to wait until Henry explained what was going on. "I suppose there's no reason to keep you waiting." Henry paused again, staring straight into Erik's eyes he said the words that would inevitably change Erik's life forever. "You're my replacement, the new Reaper for Paris." He paused letting it sink into Erik's mind. Henry held a hand up to silence Erik before he asked a question. "Before you ask anything let me tell you how this all works." Erik nodded even though his patience was quickly wearing thin.

"Ok, so the Death everyone thinks is going to take them to the afterlife, you know, the skeleton? That's the father of all Grim Reapers. What no one tells you is that he was popular with the ladies because before he was the skeleton he looked normal, supposedly pretty handsome, but that's beside the point. The point is that even though who or whatever gave him the job of soul collecting they gave him weekends off, which meant he could be normal and get as many ladies as he wanted on the weekends and go back to taking souls the rest of the week.

"For many years there were no problems, everything worked out perfectly, but after 100 years he began to need help, there were just too many souls that needed collecting. Well, Death managed to get some help, in the form of three sons, each of whom was born with one side of their face disfigured. Together the three sons not only helped their father, but also convinced who or whatever's out there to make Reapers' lives easier.

"The three sons made all of our lives easier, and trust me, you'll thank them one day. Now, for being the sorry sods that take souls, we get extra benefits, but I'm not even going to try and break down all of that for you right now. However there are a few important things you need to know now, one, to all others Erik the phantom is just that, a phantom, you're dead, two, you are officially immortal until you're done being a Reaper, and three, unless you are on you're two days off no one really notices you. Now, I think it's time we left." With that, Henry got up out of his seat put some money on the table and grabbed Erik. Together they slowly walked down the street to a comfortable little town house.

Erik looked at the town house. The red brick house looked extremely inviting, he could see smoke coming out of a pipe on the roof and though how nice it would be to sit in front of a fire and warm his…undead body up. He watched as Henry opened the door and invited him in, much to Erik's surprise. As they walked through the door Erik was pleased to find the whole house smelled of exquisite food that must have been cooked all day.

"Cecile! Dearest! He's here!" Henry called out into the wonderfully furbished house. Pans and silverware were heard crashing down and a young, petite, skinny, brunette woman walked into the hallway wiping off her hands on her blue stained apron.

"Erik! What a pleasure to meet you!" She said merrily as she held a hand out for him to take. Erik lifted his blood covered hand. Cecile's smile faltered slightly, but she caught herself. "Oh dear, Henry, why didn't you clean the poor man off? He hasn't been through enough that you're going to make him clean himself up?" The young woman criticized Henry.

"Darling, the Reaper I replaced made me wash my puke stained clothes after he collected me, I didn't see a reason to wash Erik off, I'm sure he is quite capable!" Henry replied with a grin on his face.

Erik could see that these two were a couple. He suddenly felt alone again. Why did his Christine leave him? He loved her with more passion than that fop could ever dream of having! Henry must have seen how upset Erik was becoming because he quickly invited Erik into the living room.

"Have seat next to the fire, I'll get you some wine to warm the death right out of your bones!" Henry left to the kitchen which was across the hall. Erik sat down in a red leather lounge chair that faced the fire. Out of the corner of his eye his caught a glimpse of Henry wrapping his arm around Cecile and kissing her neck forcing her to burst out into a fit of giggles, teasingly trying to push him off. He fell back into the chair and waited for the wine. He had never wanted to get drunk more than he did right then.

Henry handed Erik a glass of merlot and put the bottle on a table not far from Erik's reach. Erik downed the glass and picked the bottle up. He was almost too weak to lift the bottle, but he managed. Henry watched in astonishment as Erik drank most of the bottle in silence. He considered telling him to slow down, but figured it would be better if he remained silent. All Erik could think about was Christine, where did he go wrong? He had done everything for her and she betrayed him! How he loathed her! That little cooze had ruined his life! Was it even love he had felt for this girl? How could he have felt love for such a conniving little snake?! What was love anyways? Having never known love how was he to know what true love was? When Henry came back with another bottle of wine, Erik was in quite a state.

Henry handed Erik the uncorked bottle and moved to sit back down, but Erik grabbed his hand with his bloody one. "Are you…are…are you and Cecile…" Henry thought about finishing Erik's miserable, frustrated and slurred sentence for him, but let him finish. "Are you in love?" He finally managed.

Henry looked deep into Erik's agony-filled eyes, "Yes, Cecile and I are very much in love."

For a moment Henry thought Erik would begin weeping, but instead the man pushed for more information, it was as if he was desperate for answers, "How did you know?" He whispered.

"I knew because when I showed her my face and told her who I was she didn't even flinch." Tears fell from Erik's eyes. His Christine hadn't loved him. "From the moment I met her I knew that she was different, as I courted her, I fell in love with her, she made me feel perfect, finally I got up the nerve to show her my face and tell her who I was. She took me in her arms and let me kiss her for the first time, shortly after that we were married." Henry paused, almost afraid to tell his friend anymore when he was in that state. "Erik, that's why you are here now." He paused, gauging Erik's reaction to the information. "You see, when a Reaper meets the love of his life, they get married and are sent a letter with a name, address, and time. Erik, you were on my letter." Erik's tears stopped and his eyes were filled with an almost stunned confusion.

"You remember when I told you that you would thank Death's three sons, right?" Erik nodded slowly, "Well, they convinced the powers that be that even Reapers deserved love, so in return for a Reaper's service we get a place to stay, a paycheck, and a guarantee that there is someone out there meant for us and our love. When we find that person who is meant for us, we are replaced and returned to mortal status." Erik seemed to understand. "I know your heart was broken, but I promise you, no matter how strong the pain you are feeling is, it will get better." Henry touched Erik's shoulder in a loving way.

Once Erik had calmed down, Henry invited him into the dining room where Cecile had laid down a huge feast. If Erik still looked horrible, she didn't say anything and treated him as kindly as Annette Giry had. They all sat down and ate heartily, the hearts soon filled with mirth. Cecile and Henry shared humorous stories of their youth. Erik stayed the night there and found the couple to be very hospitable.

After two weeks in the couple's company, Erik had all his strength back and had begun to find the smallest amount of joy in his life. It was his 17th day of being undead when he received a letter.

**Philipe Emoulle**

**324 Rue Reaumur **

**9:26February 8**

That night, Henry took Erik to the address and at 9:26 the two men entered the house unnoticed. They passed the warm halls filled with children and laughter and went up the staircase, into the room that seemed to beckon them. There, on the bed was Philipe. Philipe was a large man, a seemingly happy man with grey eyes that sparkled. He watched the two men with masks shaped like skulls enter, he was about to make an outburst and tell them to go, but Henry lifted a finger to his lips and the stunned man remained silent. Erik stepped forward, the man whimpered and whispered prayers, Erik placed his deathly white hand on Philipe's shoulder and watched as Philipe's soul was pulled from his body and released into the air. The eerie green substance floated around the room and eventually found its way out of the house leaving its large body on the bed, dull eyes gazing blankly at the ceiling. The two men left the house. As they walked down the street in reverent silence, screams from the woman who had found Philipe shrieked through the air.

When Erik and Henry returned to the inviting home where Cecile waited with a cup of tea for Erik and a cup of coffee for Erik, Erik was slapped on the back by Henry. "Well done! You're officially a Reaper and I am officially retired!" The now living man had a large smile on his face. Erik plastered a fake smile on his, as much as he wished he could be happy for the couple, he couldn't bring himself to be such. He had released a man's soul so it could go to the afterlife, a place he wouldn't know for more than a hundred years. He had killed men before, but taking a man's soul was different. Now he knew something happened after death, but what? Even love awaited him, but how would he know when it came?


	3. What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

Erik's first reaping was a sobering experience for him. Every night he saw Philipe's sparkling grey eyes go dull, the man's death haunted him every night. Releasing Philipe's soul made him realize that this wasn't a horrible nightmare, it was reality, he was a Reaper and he could kill people with the touch of his long, pale, thin hand.

The day after Philipe's death, Erik received a package in the mail. Underneath the dull brown paper was a black leather bound book with a scythe branded into the front of the leather cover. Seeing the book Erik had received, Henry brought out his own leather bound book and explained the magic behind the old books.

"Any time you have a question, just open the book and the page you open to will have the answer to your query. Here's an example," Henry picked up the book and asked the book directly, "What are the rules on using a bank to keep Reaper money?" Henry opened the black leather cover and on the front page, scrawled out in black ink was his answer:

_NEVER USE A BANK, USING A BANK RAISES THE CHANCES OF GETTING CAUGHT AS BEING IMMORTAL_

Erik was stunned. "Can you ask it anything else?"

Henry shrugged, "You can, but the book will keep any information from you if it feels it is the wrong time for you to be enlightened." He paused, considering the different questions a Reaper could ask the book. "Actually, you could probably find out who you're father was if you wanted to know." said Henry as he shrugged and left Erik's bedroom to find Cecile.

After Erik had become an official Reaper, he opted to stay with Henry and his wife, wearing gloves to keep them protected from his deathly grip. Erik's room had yet to acquire much of his style; it had a bed and a desk which he had already covered in sheets of music, but he desperately wanted a library of his own along with an organ and violin. The grey walls were dull and uninspiring, seeming much worse after living in the Opera House for many years. Erik set his newly acquired leather book on his desk and went about helping Cecile in the kitchen as much as possible (which was difficult since if he touched any ripe food it rotted away under his fingers).

Henry's comment about the questions possible to ask the book had bothered Erik; he spent a week of restless nights, wondering what the book would tell him if he asked about the father he had never known. For hours every night he would stare at the book pondering if he should open it. If he opened it, he would know the man who had created his damned life; if he opened it he might become so depressed that he'd be miserable for the rest of his undead life. There was something about the leather book that seemed to call to his curiosity, still the one question remained in his mind; did he really want to know the truth about his father?

It was one in the morning on a cold November day when Erik's long, deadly, trembling fingers flipped the leather book open. Without realizing it he had shut his eyes tightly in fear of what the book would tell him. Gathering his courage he slowly opened one tightly closed eye, the other followed suit. To his astonishment, on the page was a picture of a man who looked almost identical to Erik, including the deformed face. Beneath the angry visage of his father was a caption scrawled out in black ink.

_Discharged Reaper Jean Delamater, son of Retired Reaper Jacques Delamater. Son, Reaper Erik Delamater, produced due to rape of Adele Aiton. Jean Delamater removed from service due to misconduct of living and abuse of privileges. Died July 14, 1861 while in prison for the rapes of several women he had stalked and tormented._

Erik closed the old book and sat back in horror. Rape. He had raped multiple women. He had stalked each of these women. He had tormented these women. He was so out of control that he was released from his duty as a Reaper. He had become much like his father without even knowing the man. Erik was disgusted with himself.

Was every deformed man the child of a Reaper? He consulted the all-knowing book.

_All Reapers are produced by other Reapers. A child can only be produced if the Reaper has been relieved of his duties. Normally, the first born male is the only child to be born a Reaper; however, due to a need for more Reapers, occasionally another son will also be given the duty of Reaper. Because first born sons inherit their father's book, extra books will be supplied to each child that is not the first born._

Erik began to consider the extra information he had been given. His father had been a vile beast that had raped a woman and created him. He stood up and began to pace his room. It seemed only right that the child born of a monster created by a vile act would become a killing machine denied love. He put a finger to his chin absently, then again, because he was a Reaper he was promised love, not just any love either, true love. Perhaps Henry was right, maybe things would get better. _Nah, I could never bring myself to believe it_, he thought to himself while shaking his head.

Erik lived many years with Henry and Cecile, he was there when their five children were born, the first of which was a strong baby boy with a deformed face just like his father. No matter how many years passed he would never forget the look of pure love that Cecile gave her deformed son with her chocolate eyes the first time she held the babe, muttering about how perfect and beautiful he was. It was Cecile who always gave him hope that there was perhaps a woman out there for him. Every time she talked to him alone it was always in a motherly way, telling him to keep an eye open for Her, because if he remained the way he was he wouldn't realize he was in love until he had lost her.

When WWI broke out things were hard for everyone, the family was fortunate enough to keep protection of the Powers-That-Be, but the loss of their first-born to the war was a trying time. Unlike other families, Henry and Cecile were fortunate enough to know that all would be well with him. At the end of the war all rejoiced, but it was busy times for Erik, who, being a Reaper, had much to keep him occupied.

It was in 1917 that Erik got the letter that affected him more than any.

**Christine De Chagny**

**De Chagny Manor**

**11:26November 7**

For a few hours Erik considered not releasing her soul, not because he wished to spare her, but because he was afraid of what would happen if he ever saw her again. Every time he looked in the leather book the pages were filled with threats were he to not complete his task. Knowing the problems this was causing Erik, a near 50 year old Henry offered to come with Erik to support for his dear friend, but Erik ultimately turned down the offer. He needed to do the job alone. Her death would completely set him free. He hoped.

When the time came, Erik walked into the mansion Christine lived in. The building was quite beautiful, filled with beautiful architecture reminiscent of the opera. He wondered if she had ever missed him, if she had lain awake one night and wondered what life would have been like had she remained with him. He had done so much for her, but the dumb little chit had left his love for the love of a more handsome man. Looking back, he realized that Christine was perfect at the time, but had he spent even more time with her he would have grown tired of her. His love for her was never true love, he had once believed that was the case, but he was wrong and it had taken him over 20 years to realize this.

Slowly Erik climbed up the main staircase and began to search for Christine. He found her room, a queens room, and walked in. She was sleeping comfortably on the bed. She had gotten larger, grown wrinkled; her chocolate curls had lost their bounce and turned grey. He sat in a chair near her bed and watched her sleep, a long time ago, she had been beautiful, she had had the voice of an angel, and she had been innocent. The woman before him was nothing but a shadow of her youthful self. Gently he awoke her; he wanted to apologize for all that he had done, and the pain he had caused her.

"Christine…" Erik whispered softly, his strong and powerful voice diminished to be as delicate as possible.

The aged woman before him slowly awoke, trying to process all that was around her. Her brown eyes grew twice their size as they landed on a long forgotten nightmare. Her mouth moved to scream but no noise came out. "Are you a dream?" the trembling woman questioned.

"I'm afraid not, Mon Ange." Pain filled his heart as he saw Christine try and scramble away from him.

"What are you doing here?! Why haven't you aged?!" She tried to yell, but her voice remained a whisper.

"I am Death, I have come to release your soul to the afterlife." Erik answered, he found no reason to ask for forgiveness now, the woman before him was not the girl who he had taught to sing, no, this was someone else.

Christine's eyes darted back and forth, "Surely, this must be a mistake! I can't die!" She clamored to find a way to convince him to let her live. "I know you loved me once, surely, you still feel the same way! You'd never let me die!"

Erik looked away from her abhorred and disgusted, "Madame, I am quite sure I feel nothing of the sort for you!" He ripped his black leather glove off and grabbed her shoulder roughly and tossed her dead body back onto the bed. Her green essence buzzed through the air angrily and shot through the open doorway. Fuming, Erik stalked out of the mansion and back to Henry and Cecile's townhouse.

"How'd it go, Erik?" Henry asked when he saw Erik arrive home. Erik didn't even reply merely marched up to his room, slammed the door and locked it.

Erik remained in his room for a week, only coming out to do what was necessary. He didn't speak to anyone, just sat in his room and considered his history as a mortal man and what he was doing with his immortal life.

Erik's life had been wrought with misery, pain and anger. His mother had sold him to the Gypsies who beat, raped and tortured him as a child. For all of his mortal life, Erik had condemned his mother for what she had done, but after finding out how she had come to conceive him, he was no longer filled with hatred. He couldn't blame her for what she did, his father had raped her; how else could she have been expected to react? However, he would always hate the Gypsies for what they had done, they had turned him into a freak show and deformed him even more with their cruelty and their whips. Later, he was bought by the Shah of Persia for entertainment since not only was he a freak. But he had learned tricks while traveling with the Gypsies.

The Shah was just one more cruel and bad influence on his life. The Shah taught him to be an assassin as well as an entertainer; it was when the Shah learned of his talent with art that things changed for the worse. He ordered Erik to build him a palace, the result was a palace of true beauty. The Shah was so impressed with Erik's work that he decided to have him killed so that no other person would have a palace as amazing as his. It was the Daroga who helped him escape, the very man who made his life more complicated when he lived in Paris.

After a short stay in Constantinople he left for Paris to build the Opera House. The Opera House. His greatest work, and yet it was its creation that was the reason for the ultimate ruin of his mortal life all because that was where he met Christine. Christine was a beautiful, innocent and loving little girl who had been orphaned, but he saw so much in that little girl, so many possibilities.

Christine became his protégée as well as his only hope for love (or so he had believed). Everything was going according to plan and Erik had figured Christine would be his in a year's time, but that's when Raoul showed up. Raoul, the pretty, rich, little fop. Christine used him, Erik later realized, she only needed him to make her famous so that she could make a name for herself and find Raoul again, once she had the fame he became obsolete. Raoul would have been able to give her anything she could desire, and that's what he did do. Who she truly loved no longer mattered, she was not who he had thought her to be, and she had definitely not loved him.

Erik's past was indeed a horrible thing, but he was now an immortal with the ability to recreate himself if he so pleased and he had done nothing with his immortal life yet. Knowing he had been given the chance to have the perfect life, Erik knew he had to seize the opportunity. In one afternoon, he decided what had to be done. He did not tell Henry or Cecile what his plan was, he only referred to the book and set out to make his dream a reality.

Erik continued life as if nothing had changed, Henry and Cecile never asked what had happened in his room; they left him alone, respecting his privacy. It was almost a week later when Erik found a frail, graying Cecile crying with a letter in one hand and her face in the other. He slid a comforting arm around Cecile's body and with wet brown eyes she looked up into Erik's vibrant green eyes begging for an explanation as she handed him the letter she had found in the mail.

**Erik,**

**As per your request, it has been determined that you will join a group of Reapers who travel constantly and handle mass deaths. Report to the Arc de Triumph at 0800 on Thursday.**

"Erik…why? Why would you leave us?" Cecile sobbed, flinging herself at Erik feet. Erik couldn't think of what say to her so he bent down and held her to his chest and let her cry her pain away.

Few words were spoken between the couple and Erik in the days before Thursday. Henry said he understood, Cecile cried in misery. Wednesday night, Erik packed his things in a back pack, donned a pair of jeans and a sweater with a black trench coat over it and left long before dawn. The only thing he left in his wake was his suit and a letter.

Henry and Cecile held each other as they cried for the loss of their dearest friend, he was more to them than a friend; he was their son, their brother, their savior. No one would ever replace him in their heart.

_To my dearest friends,_

_I'll never be able to repay you for all that you have done for me. Despite my temper and moodiness you accepted me into your family and your hearts. I did not have a family as a child, but I can only hope that if I had, my parents would have been just as you two were. You taught me to live again, you taught me to love again, but most of all, you taught me to hope again. It is because of you two that I have hopes to become a better person, someone worthy of the love of another. I may have left you, but I shall keep in contact with you and remain a guardian angel to your children, your children's children and so on and so forth. It is all that I can do to repay you for all that you have done. Please forgive me for leaving like this, but I feel if I did not leave now I could never bring myself to leave you two._

_With greatest sympathy and love,_

_Erik_

**Hi! Hope everyone's enjoying it so far, I know it's a little slow, but once I bring the girl in it'll get a little faster. Please leave comments! They're the only way I know you love my story or hate it. Remember, there's no such thing as bad publicity!**


	4. Author's note to readers

Hey all,

Hey all,

I know I haven't updated in a VERY long time. I am sorry for that, but I hope to have new chapters up for Being Death Has Rewards and Mouse with Jewel Eyes by the end of this month. I am very sorry for not updating, I know how frustrating that is, but I am taking college course classes in high school and I have had writer's block (VERY FRUSTRATING!!) but I hope to get new chapters up as soon as possible.

Thanks for understanding,

Spaugs


	5. The Years Pass

The next few decades were hard for Erik. The group of Reapers he had joined up with never stayed anywhere long and never got terribly friendly. Each year another would join and another would leave. Erik was there with the Reapers on the shores of the Normandy Beaches. The Reapers had their own squadron of soldiers. They shot men with guns; then took their souls. Many of the men in the squadron fell in love with women they met on their tour of duty, but not Erik. He remained alone.

In despair, one night, Erik opened his book looking to see if it would tell him who his true love was and when he would meet her. The book was blank. It was not his time to learn. That night was not the last night he searched for his true love in the book. Each time a Reaper he knew found love even if they had been in service a shorter time than he, he looked in the book. Sometimes the blank unfeeling paper would enrage him so much that he would try to destroy the book. Every morning the book would be on his bed, in perfect condition, as if his flair of anger had never occurred.

When he heard that Henry and Cecile had died, he had a hard time finding joy at all. Erik found himself participating in every war he could get himself into. He had been a killing machine when he was alive, so it seemed only natural that he would feel most at ease on the battle front of terrible wars. Sometimes, when in the midst of battle, he would remember his time in Persia. The men he killed would become the Shah, and Erik could not help himself from viciously killing any man in front of him. He was a Reaper, and Reapers chose no sides when war was concerned.

One night, he returned to the base covered in blood, his glaring white mask splattered with the blood of innocent men who only wished to return to their homes heroes. He found on his cot a package of letters from Henry and Cecile's children. They had been trying to contact him for years, but he was almost unreachable. He sat down in his cot and read each letter. It seemed they had been sending him letters every month for over ten years, and Erik was taken aback by the kindness he found in each letter. He noticed that every year he received an invitation to a family reunion that Henry and Cecile's children had coordinated.

At the end of the Vietnam War, Erik decided to take some of his vacation time to visit the family at their reunion. The children that had aged were extremely old, some of them were unable to even walk, but it didn't matter, he was still their dear Erik. He promised to return the following year and that he would make more of an effort to stay in contact with them because after seeing them he realized how much he truly missed being around them.

In order to keep his promise, Erik left the traveling Reapers group and settled into a town in Colorado, near the elderly children who he loved like family. True to his word, Erik went to every reunion and visited each child at least once a month. Slowly, Erik watched his family die. One-by-one he watched those that love him disappear. His only condolence was that he became friends with Vietnam Vet who owned a funeral home.

The five year friendship with the mortician Earl lead to a trust that gave Erik courage to tell his friend who and what he truly was. Earl didn't take it quite well at first. Earl passed out and couldn't talk to Erik for the rest of the week. When Earl finally returned to his old, jovial self, the two came to recognize their connection and how natural it seemed. A Reaper and a mortician; a friendship made in heaven.

Even though Erik's family had long since passed away, he returned to every reunion to check in on the rest of Henry and Cecile's family. He was always the only Reaper to go. Henry and Cecile's family had stopped believing in the story of how Henry was a Reaper after fifty years. Sometimes, when he returned, from the reunion, Earl would ask why he still went to the reunions. The people he saw weren't his family and they didn't even believe in what he was. Erik would only shrug and say that he felt a need to go; "it's as if I'm waiting for something…I don't know what," he said once.

It was only in the mid 1990's that someone in the family became truly interested in the "fairy tale" about the deformed members in the family who were actually the reapers. Things did not bode well for the strange, young girl. The girl definitely had an interest in the dark and macabre, but the every time Erik had seen her she never became a goth or anything similar to it. In fact, she seemed nearly the opposite of what she liked. Her hair was strawberry blonde and long. She would dress like a boy, but that was the only odd thing about her. She wasn't the most beautiful child. Her hair was limp and had no body, her eyes held sparkle but they weren't an amazing color; her clothes seemed to dampen who she was. Her body was hidden with the baggy clothes that seemed to almost hide her. The girl kept Erik's attention because of how intriguing she was. Erik enjoyed checking in on her, watching her interact with other kids her age. He became depressed when he was sent over-seas to France for nearly ten years.

When Erik returned, many things had changed in his Colorado town, but Earl still had his business there and he found some comfort in the fact that not all things change. Earl also had a surprise gift for Erik.

* * *

"Erik, hey, how are ya'?" Earl called over his shoulder as he worked on preserving the body before him. James Caldwell, an elderly man who died at the hospice down the street. He had a very demanding wife. Before Erik could respond Earl continued, "Do me a favor and grab the folder for James Caldwell?" Erik gave a non-committal grunt and turn to get the file from Earl's office.

The pudgy, old man worked so much now, Erik barely saw him. He missed getting to talk to his friend daily. As Erik approached the off ice, he heard the sound of computer keys clacking and soft voice humming. Had Earl finally hired someone to help him out? Erik peered around the door frame and watched Earl's new secretary work tirelessly typing up death certificates and obituaries.

Her long, blonde colored hair was pulled back in a bun, revealing a beautiful, pale silhouette with ripe pink lips. She was beautiful. Erik watched her for a few moments, darting behind the wall when she turned around. She moved from the computer to the fax machine without noticing Erik's inquisitive gaze. There was something very familiar about the girl, something he couldn't place.

Erik started when he felt a prodding of his shoulder, he turned and saw Earl. "Jesus, Earl, you nearly got my dead heart to start!" Erik exclaimed.

Earl didn't seem bothered by his outburst, "You seen her before?" Earl asked motioning towards the office and the girl working inside.

Erik looked at his old friend. Earl's old grey eyes had a twinkle to them, "I…don't know, she looks very familiar, but I can't seem to place her," Erik replied, his dark eyebrow knitting with the arch in his porcelain mask.

"That's **her**." Earl announced with a toothy grin, his chest puffing out like a proud peacock.

"Who's '**her**'?" Erik asked, still thoroughly confused.

"That girl you used to watch, Henry and Cecile's descendant," Erik's eyes raised in surprise. "Her name is Fern Rose." Earl's eyes flashed towards Erik, "Fits you doesn't it?"

Erik glanced at Earl, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Erik, you told me yourself that you kept going to those reunions because you were looking for something. After you met Fern, did you ever go back?" Earl looked Erik steadily in the eyes, "You watched her for years absolutely fascinated, did you ever consider the reason you felt such a connection to her was because she is your true love?"

"No, it can't be." Erik said shaking his head, "I don't believe it."

Earl just sighed and turned to resume working on James. "You know, if you're so determined to remain alone, you might just lose the chance to be with the love of your life."

Erik stared after Earl for a moment. It couldn't be. He barely knew Fern! How could she be the one? Erik peeked into the office. She was still humming a tune; Erik recognized it as one of the songs from the musical about his life in the opera house. Erik shook his head, no, he just couldn't believe it. Quietly, Erik left for his small apartment.

* * *

Erik looked out the window in his one room apartment, his green eyes followed the people walking down the street, but all he could see was the attractive, young woman in Earl's office. "Fern" Erik repeated to himself; could Earl be right? Could Fern be his true love?

Erik had a fitful sleep, he dreamed of a young woman with blond hair who kept whispering words of adoration in his ear while playing with the dark hairs on his chest. Erik finally could no longer stand it. He put his clothes on and found Fern's house. He watched her sleeping form. She twisted in her sleep, her face quickly changing between the emotion of peace and distress. Her strong body let out a moan as she further entangled herself in her sheets.

Her long hair was tied back again; little strands of hair were pulled from her bun. Erik's fingers itched to fix her hair for her. He noticed her eyes were half open, showing a small amount of the color her eyes held. He had originally found her eyes to be unspectacular, but on closer inspection he found her eyes to be a green-blue mix with flecks of gold. Erik knew he would be following her the next day, like he did when she was six.

He was completely correct in his assumption. He followed Fern around and found little to have changed about her character. She was a warm, friendly, young woman with many friends who also had a dark side that separated her from her friends. Her clothing never really separated her from others, but something about her nature made her easy to pick out of a crowd.

Erik followed her the next day and the day after that and the day after that. She was just as fascinating as a sixteen year old as she was as a six year old. Erik was impressed by her intelligence and her ability to see everyone as the same. The fact that she never judged anyone on anything other than their character impressed him, she was unconcerned by appearances, and yet she wore make-up and dressed nice. He assumed it was for her job more than anything else. Her job was very important to her, she found a connection within her to the funeral home.

After a week of following Fern, Erik could feel his heart beginning to swell. Maybe she was the one. Another week passed, Erik refused to follow her any more, it was a bad habit to get into. He also wasn't sleeping well either. His dreams were filled with an older Fern who confessed her undying love for him.

Erik could stand it no longer after a somewhat erotic dream where Fern lay beneath him, begging him to take her, possess her. Erik awoke from the dream with a sheen of perspiration upon his muscular body. He quickly leapt from his bed and grabbed the book from the kitchenette. Was Fern Rose really the woman he had been waiting for, was she the one?

_Consult the seer on Grimm Street. She will reveal the name of your true love in the form of two tarot cards._

Erik knew the oracle the book was talking about. He had never been one for occult things like that despite being a Reaper like he was, but he decided he would consult the woman the book mentioned.

* * *

The next morning, Erik went to see the fortuneteller. The shop was one of many that lined Grimm Street. The window had old fashioned styled words that spelled "Madame Guinevere's Tarot Shoppe", Erik laughed at the tacky name. Did that honestly bring in customers? He shrugged and entered the shop, suddenly being flooded with a horrible mix of incense smoke. The "Shoppe" was dark, smoky and overly warm.

"Velcome, I'll be right vith you!" A female voice called from behind a pair of heavy felt curtains that was trying to pull off a Transylvanian accent. She did not accomplish her goal. Suddenly, a woman dressed as a gypsy through the curtains out of her way with a flourish, bustling her round body into the room. She sat at a round table covered in a felt table cloth. Erik tried to keep his rude comments about the cliché shop in his head.

"Is there some vay I cun help you?" The woman prodded, wiggling her eyebrows, making her numerous pieces of jewelry jiggle and clash together.

"I want you to look into my future with your cards." Erik announced sitting at the opposite side of the table, throwing back the bottom edge of his dark gray jean coat.

"Hm…let me see what the cards have in store for you…" The woman grabbed the pile of cards to her right and placed them in front of her. She waved her hands around in a mystical way, flicking her fingers about, her eyes rolling back a little. Erik had to give it to her, she was working very hard to fulfill every superstitious person's dream.

Finally she grasped the cards and began to shuffle them with great flare. Erik could feel his palms begin to sweat, he became very anxious and uncomfortable. The woman placed the cards in front of Erik and asked him to cut the deck in half. He cut it. Guinevere put the right deck on top of the left and flipped the top card.

There before Erik was a card entitled "Death". The picture depicted a skeleton upon a horse, holding a flag with a vibrant red rose upon it. At the horse's hooves a group of bushes; fern bushes.

"A great change will befall you." Guinevere told him in a mystical voice, waving her hands in front of the card. Erik placed a few dollars on the table and walked out. A great change, indeed.

Erik knew now that Fern was his one and only and she his. From this point on, all Erik had to do was wait until Fern was a proper age to begin a relationship with. And perhaps also keep any other suitors from pursuing his future wife.

* * *

**I told you I'd update soon! I hope have a new chapter for Mouse with Jewel Eyes up in a few days. Please read and review! Thanks a bunch!**


End file.
